


Patrick's Voice

by mushroomnoodles



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: I chose a weird song, M/M, Pete comes twice, Peterick, Voice Kink, but it's mostly fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 21:58:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4851962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mushroomnoodles/pseuds/mushroomnoodles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick's voice makes Pete come.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patrick's Voice

The show was a success that night. Spectacular, to say the least. Delirious fans, music so loud it could smash a wall, lights all around and applauses and screams and emotions. But most of all, Patrick’s voice.

Yeah. Patrick’s voice.

Pete felt like he had just drunk ten shots, and yeah, it could have been the tiredness, or the exaltation for a show so extraordinary, but he was positive it was _Patrick’s voice_ that made him feel like that.

He’d liked it since the very first time he heard it. He couldn’t deny it. After all, if now Patrick was a singer, it was because of him; there was something in that voice, something different and endearing and penetrating that Pete couldn’t entirely catch or understand, but it was there.

He was happy that Patrick was more confident onstage now; he was happy he would no longer hide under trucker hat visors, that he would lock eyes and interact with fans. Mostly, though, he was happy he’d started playing with his voice.

That night, the singer decided to beautify the verse _‘I’m the opposite of amnesia’_ in _Centuries_ spontaneously. He didn’t try that out during sound check, and Pete hadn’t seen that coming. And because he hadn’t seen that coming, the mere word ‘amnesia’ gave him a hard on, that he had to hide under his bass for the rest of the show – but he didn’t really mind.

Now the concert was over, everyone was in their own changing room and Pete’s hard on was still there. Pete could have chosen a demo, a song, anything that had Patrick’s voice recorded on it, really, and he would come without even touching himself.

That’s exactly what happened.

***

They got to their hotel late at night: Patrick, Andy and Joe headed towards their respective rooms, tiredness and nervousness of a night so intense were heavy on them, but Pete’s enthusiasm was still on. The adrenaline in his veins helped him bear up and he knocked on Patrick’s door. He didn’t know what he wanted exactly, but it was an enticing perspective just to hear Patrick’s voice again. Even if it was just his talking voice. Even a ‘Pete, go away, I need to sleep!’ would do at this point.

Pete thought he was becoming obsessed.

When he opened the door, Patrick smiled slightly. It was pretty clear that he was dead tired, but Pete decided he would feel sorry for it later on.

“Hey, Pete! Come in. What’s up?”

Pete tried to stop his thoughts that were running across his mind, but didn’t succeed. Between the heat in his stomach and the blood in his groin, he thought that, maybe, he should have stayed in his own room. What could he say now?

Pete got in without answering. Patrick was wearing a pajama that looked super comfy and his black square glasses; seeing him with no hat on felt weird even to Pete, who basically lived with him while they were on tour. His hair was _so_ straight. And, oh.

Patrick was rather handsome. You know, as a whole. His face and his body and his way to do _things_ and stuff.

Pete sat down on his friend’s bed, saying nothing. Patrick took a seat next to him.

“Do you need anything?” Patrick asked. Pete _had_ to say something. Anything.

“No, I just wanted to see you, you know… you did great tonight.”

Patrick’s facial muscles relaxed into a smile. “Thanks. You were awesome, too. The crowd loved it when you – ”

“No, Patrick, I mean… your voice.”

The singer tried to hide his own perplexity by smiling still, but Pete knew his speech didn’t make much sense to him. He sighed.

“Okay. Now please don’t think I’m crazy, but I got turned on during the show… because of your voice.”

Patrick wasn’t even trying to hide his perplexity anymore.

“What do you mean… turned on?”

“I mean I had to hide an erection under my bass.”

Patrick’s cheeks became pink and he immediately averted his eyes from Pete’s.

“Well, you know… it happens, sometimes, when you’re particularly excited and energetic during a show, that…”

“No. It was your voice.”

Patrick was noticeably embarrassed by now and Pete expected him to kick him out of his room. Of course. What was he thinking? Patrick wouldn’t even look at him for months after tonight. Way to go, Pete. Way to spoil a friendship.

After several seconds of awkward silence, during which Pete felt like dying, Patrick laughed. It was a nervous laugh, but still.

“So… so what did you do afterwards? Did you jerk off thinking of me under the shower?”

Well, now it was Pete’s turn to feel confused. Did Patrick think it was a joke? Was he making fun of him? Or, maybe, he was simply so uncomfortable he wanted to play it down at all costs…

Oh, fuck it. There was no turning back now.

“No. Better than that. I listened to one of our demos and came without even touching myself.”

The one on Pete’s face was a challenging expression; he wanted to see how far this would go. He also felt pretty proud of himself while confessing his little sin to Patrick, actually.

“You’re kidding me,” Patrick said, whispering. Laughing.

Pete grabbed Patrick’s shoulders and forced him to look in his eyes. The movement was so sudden that Patrick looked frightened for a moment, but then calmed down under Pete’s sincere gaze. He stayed still.

“Look at me, Patrick. Does it look like I’m kidding?” the words were well pronounced; they left Pete’s lips slowly. He was moving closer and closer to Patrick’s mouth, and he left the last word in between his half-closed lips. Pete was ready. He wouldn’t ruin everything. Not this time.

He kissed him.

Pete was kissing _the mouth_ which produced _that voice_. He had wanted to do this for god knows how many years, but he would never admit it, not even to himself. Now that he was doing it, he realized he had never wanted anything more than this in his life. Patrick tasted like honey and everything that’s sweet in this world.

At first, Patrick didn’t retreat and actually kissed him back; but then, as if realizing suddenly, his body stiffened and he broke the kiss.

“What are you doing? Are you insane or something?” Patrick got to his feet and backed away from Pete as much as possible, as if he wanted to get away from him. The tone of his voice was loud enough for the people in adjacent rooms to hear. He stopped moving backwards when he reached the door; he turned around, looked at it, pointed at it and motioned Pete to go away. His every movement was a burst, sudden, nervous.

Pete got up, sighing resignedly, and headed towards the door. When he got to it, he looked at Patrick who, immobile as ever, was keeping his eyes closed shut, trying to keep himself from imploding.

“At least you know, now,” he whispered. He opened the door and didn’t look back.

***

When he heard someone knocking on his door, Pete was lying awake on his bed, trying not to fall apart. He got to his feet and opened the door, his brain too busy forbidding access to any emotion to think properly. He found Patrick in front of him.

“I freaked out earlier,” he said, gazing down at the floor.

“Uh uh.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Mh. Okay.”

He made as if to close the door shut and go back to bed.

“Pete, wait. Wait,” Pete stopped, his full attention on Patrick now. “My reaction was terrible but, I swear, I really enjoyed the kiss. I mean, if I hadn’t freaked out, I wouldn’t have stopped you. It’s something that… well, I’ve wanted to do this for a while. Just, I didn’t expect it to happen… like this, you know.”

Pete let him in, a skeptic look on his face.

Now it was Patrick’s turn to take a seat on Pete’s bed and Pete’s turn to follow him.

“What you said earlier… about my voice, was it true?” Patrick looked curious, more than anything. Even though, maybe, he actually _hoped_ Pete’s answer was positive.

“Yes, it was. Embarrassing, I know. I should keep this kinda things to myself,” Pete smiled. It was a bittersweet smile.

“Did I make you come with just my voice?”

“Yeah…?” the bassist raised an eyebrow, confused by all those questions. “Yes, that’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Can I try again?”

Pete’s eyes went open wide. _What?_

“Patrick, I don’t know if –”

Patrick stood up and closed his eyes. He started snapping his fingers to create a rhythm. At first, moans and grunts escaped his mouth, just to warm up his voice; then, those noises turned into _oh’s_ and _yeah’s_ , and eventually they turned into actual words. Pete couldn’t name the song, it didn’t match his taste, but he didn’t care. Patrick’s voice a cappella was the most magical thing Pete’d ever heard. With no embellishments, with no instruments or music to cover it up, it was pure. It was like a shelter from any evil thing in the world.

But it wasn’t only beautiful, it was sexy as hell, too. With those traits that no other voice had, traits that were Patrick’s and only Patrick’s, it seemed to Pete that he was stroking all over him with his hands. That he was stroking… nice places.

During the second chorus, Patrick used his ‘amnesia’ voice. Pete felt the same heat in his stomach and the same blood in his groin as earlier that night. He felt the same hard-on coming out, too.

Patrick opened his eyes just in time to notice; he smiled, satisfied, but didn’t stop singing.

The tone of his voice got lower as he stepped towards Pete. He halted mere centimeters from him, lowered his head, and whispered the song into Pete’s ear. His voice was even warmer and deeper than before. Pete had to make an effort and keep his hands on both sides of his legs on the bed, resisting the urge to touch himself; he clenched the sheets tight when Patrick sang, _“I think you’re special, what’s behind your back?”_

“Please… keep going,” it sounded like a whimper more than a request. His breath was heavy, his eyes closed by now, patiently waiting for the wave of pleasure about to overwhelm him.

_“…you see these shackles, baby I’m your slave_

_I’ll let you whip me if I misbehave_

_It’s just that no one makes me feel this way.”_

That was it.

Pete came in his pajama pants and he didn’t care about the large stain forming in his crotch area; he let out small noises and his body trembled, but it was a silent orgasm overall. Patrick was still singing, and Pete didn’t want to cover his voice (it cracked, however, when Pete came. Patrick managed to cover up the imperfection with a grunt that fitted the song so well, that bastard).

Pete caught his breath, and then ran a hand through his hair and tilted his head back a little. Patrick had finished the song by now and he sat down next to Pete.

“I feel like a god,” Patrick said, rather happy and proud of himself. Pete thought he had every right to be cocky about it. It didn’t happen often to normal people.

Pete moved closer to Patrick’s mouth, like he had hours ago; he gave him a kiss, thinking about nothing and giving Patrick no time to think about anything. It worked this time.

Patrick kissed him back till the end.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay maybe 'SexyBack' by Justin Timberlake was a random choice, but come on it's hot and it was fun to write  
> Corrections are always welcome!


End file.
